


Polyamory for Dummies

by KuriKuri



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Basketball Player Derek, FSA Week, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Polyamory, Roommates, Virgin Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKuri/pseuds/KuriKuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What?” Stiles replies, blinking at Erica. She indicates his make-up and shirt. “I – no, that’s – Scott’s Derek’s boyfriend. I’m just moral support. Or something.” He flails in Scott’s general direction, but unfortunately Scott’s too focused on the game to save him.</p><p>“I’m not going to judge,” Erica says, smirking slightly. “The only reason Isaac isn’t here too is because he has an exam tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“Isaac?” Stiles asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.</p><p>“My other boyfriend,” Erica answers easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polyamory for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> For Fuck Scerek Anon week! And thanks so much to sleepy-skittles and queerlyalex for giving me all sorts of plot suggestions and cheering me on! Love you two!

Stiles Stilinski is going to die alone.

Part of him has always expected it, of course, but now he _knows_ , alright? Two years into college and still tragically a virgin – not for lack of trying, of course – and with no romantic history so to speak of, barring a single blind date, where he then discovered that Malia, his date, was just trying to get over her ex-girlfriend. Her ex-girlfriend, Kira, who showed up halfway through the date to apologize and declare her undying love.

That’s just the way his life works, he supposes.

Still, even though he’s accepted his fate, that doesn’t mean it’s fair to _rub it in his face all the time_. Then again, it’s Scott. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing.

“C’mon, Stiles, _please?_ ” Scott says, worrying his lower lip with his teeth and looking at Stiles with the Puppy Dog Eyes ™.

“No, Scott!” Stiles shouts across their dorm room, tearing his gaze away from Scott’s puppy eyes and focusing back in on his linguistics textbook in determination. “You’re going on a date with Derek. You do not bring a wingman on a date! The point of a wingman is to help you _get_ a date. Which I did, thank you very much.”

Not that he’d actually been trying to, at the time. Scott had gotten curious about why he had season tickets for the university basketball team and went to just about every single game. And once Stiles had admitted that it was because he liked ogling the star player, well, Scott decided he had to see for himself.

What Stiles _hadn’t_ anticipated, though, was that hot basketball player Derek was the hot guy from Scott’s French class. Stiles had _also_ not anticipated that Derek would ask Scott out after spotting him after the game and stumbling through a disgustingly adorable attempt at flirting.

Then again, maybe Stiles should have anticipated it, considering his luck.

“But what if I start ruining the date!” Scott exclaims, bringing Stiles back to the conflict at hand. “I’ll need you to save it.”

“Scott, I have literally never been on a successful date _in my entire life_ ,” Stiles replies, scowling at Scott. “In fact, I’ve been on one date. Period. How the hell would I know how to save your date?”

“You’re good at thinking on your feet,” Scott protests, and Stiles resists the urge to smash his face in his textbook.

“I’m not going with you,” Stiles repeats. “I don’t want to spend the entire night as a third-wheel. An _unnecessary_ third wheel.”

“At least help me figure out what to wear?” Scott finally sighs, holding up two different pairs of jeans. Stiles sighs, but sets aside his book.

“The maroon ones,” Stiles says, waving vaguely towards the pair of jeans Scott’s holding in his right hand. After many hours of careful observation since becoming Scott’s roommate the previous year, Stiles has determined that the maroon jeans do _indecent_ things Scott’s ass. If he wants to get some tonight, he’s gonna get some.

“Shirt?” Scott asks, bending down to rummage through his dresser. Stiles feels his cheeks heat as his eyes land on Scott’s ass again. “I have – ”

“The cream colored henley,” Stiles answers immediately, probably too quickly, actually.

“You sure?” Scott replies, frowning as he holds up said shirt.

“Trust me, dude,” Stiles says, his voice a little rough. Scott shrugs and then pulls off his shirt. Stiles snaps his eyes back to his textbook, trying not to think about Scott, half naked scant feet away from him. _Preparing for his date with Derek_ , Stiles reminds himself.

“You sure you won’t come with?” Scott asks after a few moments, and Stiles looks up to find him dressed again, the top two buttons of his henley undone and his jeans hugging his legs in a thoroughly distracting way.

“Scott, just go wine and dine Derek already,” Stiles sighs, waving Scott off. “And if I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you tell me all about how amazing in bed he is afterwards.”

“I’m not that sort of boy, Stiles,” Scott replies, mock offended. There’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though.

“C’mon, let me live vicariously through you,” Stiles teases, pouting at Scott. “Now skedaddle, I’ve got reading for tomorrow’s class to finish and you’ve got a date to get to. Shoo.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you later,” Scott replies, shooting him a full-blown grin now.

“No you won’t!” Stiles calls after him, trying not to stare at his ass as he leaves. Stiles bites his bottom lip and looks back down at his textbook. He manages another couple of paragraphs before sticking a hand down his pants and stroking off to the thought of Derek pressing Scott down into his bedsheets.

\---

Stiles gets a text exactly two minutes after he’s let out of his philosophy class.

_Scottie (4:02 pm)_  
_u wanna see the man from uncle tonight??_

Stiles blinks at the text for a moment, but finds himself smiling as he texts back.

_Stiles (4:02 pm)_  
_sure. what time?_

_Scottie (4:03 pm)_  
_is 5 ok? so we can get food after_

_Stiles (4:03 pm)_  
_sounds good :)_

As he sends the text, he resists the urge to fist pump. It’s not a date – he’s not under any of those delusions – but any time spent with Scott is time well spent, as sappy as it sounds. He’s been crushing on Scott for at least a year and a half now, and he’s accepted that it’s not about to go away anytime soon.

He heads back to the dorm to put his stuff away. Scott’s still out somewhere – Stiles can’t help but wonder if he’s with Derek – and Stiles finds himself standing in front of the mirror, contemplating whether to change or not. Scott left for class early that morning so he doesn’t know what Stiles is wearing, and Stiles _knows_ this isn’t a date, but part of him wants to dress up a little. 

He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment longer before walking over to his dresser.

Half an hour later, he heads out the door clad in slightly tighter jeans and a white t-shirt that’s just a little too small for him. No one’s actually _told_ him that he looks good in it, but he thinks it makes his shoulders look nice. If you’re into that sort of thing.

Not that he’s trying to steal Derek Hale’s new boyfriend or anything. Really.

Scott meets him at the theater. For a second, Stiles wonders if he dressed up too, because he’s wearing a soft-looking sweater that hugs his chest in all the right ways.

“Hey,” Scott says, smiling at Stiles. “I got us tickets already.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Stiles protests, rummaging around in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, let me – ”

“You can pay next time,” Scott interrupts. Stiles’ cheeks heat as he repeats _not a date not a date not a date_ to himself. This is just Scott being a bro.

“Alright, alright,” Stiles huffs, following Scott into the theater.

“Do you want popcorn?” Scott asks, walking close enough to Stiles that their shoulders brush up against each other once before Stiles pulls back.

“Dude, always,” Stiles replies with a grin, which Scott mirrors.

Eventually they make their way to the correct theater, settling in near the back. Scott’s sitting to Stiles’ left and Stiles has the popcorn bag in his lap. He hopes that they dim the theater lights soon so that Scott doesn’t notice how his cheeks get pinker every time their fingers brush when they try to grab popcorn at the same time.

However, right as the trailers start, Stiles hears someone say, “Sorry I’m late. It took a while to get her from the art and design building.”

Stiles stares, mouth hanging open as he watches Derek Hale sit down in the seat to his right. He tries not to feel too betrayed. Part of him wants to ask Scott what Derek’s doing here, but that would probably be too rude with Derek sitting, well, _right there_.

“Do you, uh, want me to switch seats so that you two can – ” he finally manages, but Scott cuts him off with a, “Ssssh, I wanna see the trailers.”

So Stiles clenches the popcorn back a little tighter and falls silent. However, he has to bite back a squeak as he goes for another handful of popcorn and finds Derek’s hand colliding with his.

“Sorry,” Derek murmurs, and Stiles is so, so glad that the theater is dark now. His face must be bright red.

Stiles spends the rest of the time half focused on the movie, and half focused on how Scott and Derek both keep leaning into his personal space to grab more popcorn. At this point, he’s kind of wishing he’d bought a smaller bag, just so the torture could end. It’s an amazing sort of torture, but torture none the less.

Idly, he realizes that this is the most action he’s gotten since Cindy Dibb kissed him in an ill-advised game of truth or dare, back in eighth grade. Which is kind of sad, actually.

Scott’s hand brushes his again and he bites his lip and tires to refocus on the movie.

“So, what did you think?” Scott asks once the lights come back up. He’s looking at Stiles with those Puppy Dog Eyes ™ again, like Stiles’ opinion of the movie is somehow important.

“It was… nice?” Stiles answers tentatively. “Gabby and Illya were cute together.”

“And Napoleon,” Derek adds, and Stiles frowns at him, confused.

“Yeah, I guess Illya and Napoleon could have made a hot couple,” Stiles concedes. Scott gives him a strangely disappointed look. “Anyway, food?”

“There’s a place across the street that’s good,” Derek suggests as they step out of the theater and into the crisp evening air.

However, when they get to the restaurant, Stiles balks. Because it’s an Italian restaurant. Not super high end, but _still_. Unless it’s Olive Garden, Stiles has always thought of Italian food as Date Food, which is kind of leading him to believe that he’s crashing one of Scott and Derek’s dates.

Stiles curses Scott for being so oblivious, when Derek had clearly planned out a special night for the two of them. Derek’s probably pissed at him now.

“You know what, I’m not actually that hungry,” Stiles blurts out, making both Scott and Derek look at him. “You two go ahead and eat. I’ll just – ”

“But it’s a Tuesday,” Scott says, frowning, and Stiles suppresses a wince. “You eat lunch early because you have back-to-back classes from eleven to one thirty. I thought you’d be starving by now.”

“Too much popcorn,” Stiles protests weakly.

“It’s my treat,” Derek says, like that will somehow change Stiles’ mind.

“I – ” Stiles starts, but somehow Scott and Derek manage to coordinate to usher him into the restaurant before he can make a break for it. “Guys – ”

His traitorous stomach growls and Scott gives him a pointed look.

He orders spaghetti, though, because his dad has always insisted that spaghetti is not something you eat on dates. And right now, with Scott and Derek sitting with him, he needs a firm reminder that this is Not A Date. 

Somehow he manages to drop a meatball in Derek’s lap, and Scott laughs so hard water comes out his nose. Mission accomplished, he supposes.

\---

“Put this on,” Scott says, and a moment later a t-shirt hits him in the face.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Stiles sputters, tugging the shirt off of his head and glaring at Scott.

“C’mon, we have to head over to the game soon,” Scott replies, tugging on his own shirt, which appears to match Stiles’.

“The game…?” Stiles says, frowning.

“The basketball game?” Scott clarifies, his brown furrowing with concern. “We’re playing Arizona.”

“Oh. Yeah. That game,” Stiles mutters, looking back down at the blue and yellow shirt in his hand. “I’m thinking about maybe passing this time. I have a lot of work I have to get done. I’m kind of behind in Classical Latin.”

“Dude, this is a huge game,” Scott says, and shit, there are the Puppy Dog Eyes ™ again. “Derek gave me shirts for us and everything!”

“Scott…” Stiles whines, biting his lip as he unfurls the shirt to find ‘Hale’ and ‘31’ plastered all over it. Shouldn’t Scott _not_ want him at the game, ogling his new boyfriend? Then again, Scott seems to be surprisingly dense about this whole dating thing.

“C’mon, you can study later,” Scott says, tugging away Stiles’ laptop before he can protest. “Derek’s waiting for us.”

Well, he’s waiting for Scott, at least.

“Fine, fine,” Stiles mutters, tugging off his ‘Airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow’ shirt and shoves the other blue and yellow monstrosity of a shirt over his head. “Satisfied?”

“Not yet,” Scott says with a grin before pulling out a blue make-up crayon. Stiles lets out a long-suffering sigh, but lets Scott write ‘31’ on both of his cheeks. “Now do me.”

Stiles blushes slightly, but takes the crayon, scrawling the numbers hastily on Scott’s cheeks and trying to ignore how close together they are.

“Let’s go,” Scott says, grinning at him, and Stiles, well. Stiles follows.

Which is how he finds himself sandwiched in between Scott and Erica Reyes, the girlfriend of Vernon Boyd, number 12. Yeah, apparently he’s managed to get stuck in the significant others section.

“So, you’re Derek’s?” she asks, five minutes into the game.

“What?” Stiles replies, blinking at her. She indicates his make-up and shirt. “I – no, that’s – Scott’s Derek’s boyfriend. I’m just moral support. Or something.” He flails in Scott’s general direction, but unfortunately Scott’s too focused on the game to save him.

“I’m not going to judge,” Erica says, smirking slightly. “The only reason Isaac isn’t here too is because he has an exam tomorrow morning.”

“Isaac?” Stiles asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“My other boyfriend,” Erica answers easily. Stiles finds himself floundering for a moment.

“That’s not – I mean – ” he stutters, cheeks flushing as his mind decides to be supremely unhelpful and conjure an image of what it might be like to have both Scott _and_ Derek.

“It’s alright,” Erica says, patting him on the back. “I know it takes a bit of adjustment when you’re first starting out.”

Stiles isn’t quite sure what to say to that.

\---

Next it’s bowling night.

Scott and Stiles have had a dedicated bowling night every two weeks. It used to be every week, but even with late night discounts, they’d quickly realized that their meager, college student funds didn’t allow for such decadency. But anyway: bowling night. A Scott & Stiles event, a year and a half running.

But apparently, Scott has now decided it’s a Scott & Stiles & _Derek_ event.

“Scott!” Stiles hisses as Derek goes to get his bowling shoes, out of earshot. “Why is Derek here?”

“I thought it would be nice,” Scott replies, frowning slightly. “And anyway, you always beat me at bowling. Maybe this time _I’ll_ finally get to beat someone.”

“Dude, I thought this was _our_ thing,” Stiles says, all too aware that he’s probably pouting. “You know, just us.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott murmurs, his face falling. “I just thought it would be nice.”

“No, it’s fine, just – ” Stiles sighs, giving in. “Just us, next time.”

“Alright,” Scott says, looking a little subdued, and Stiles hates that he’s made Scott look like this, but he’s just a little hurt. Because now he has to spend the rest of the evening watching Scott and Derek be disgustingly cute together while pining pathetically.

They fall into a slightly awkward silence and Stiles is desperately wracking his brain for something to break it, but thankfully he’s saved by Derek returning, bowling shoes in hand.

“It’s been forever since I bowled,” Derek says with a small smile, sitting down to put on his shoes.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Stiles can help show you the ropes again,” Scott replies, smile returning. “He’s a good bowler.”

In the end, Stiles does not, in fact, show Derek the ropes. Because apparently Derek is a crazy good bowler. After Derek’s fifth strike of the night, Stiles is pretty sure he’s supposed to be frustrated, but then Scott compliments him and Derek smiles this tiny, bashful smile, the tips of his ears going pink, and Stiles’ heart just _melts_.

“Need help with that?” Derek asks, his smile turning more smirk-like when Stiles picks up his bowling ball.

“I’ve got it,” Stiles insists, hefting the ball up and focusing in on the bowling pins at the end of the lane. He tries to ignore Derek and Scott’s eyes on him as he positions himself, moving forward, pulling his hand back, and then swinging the ball forward.

He only manages two pins. Fuck.

“You sure you don’t want help?” Derek asks, quirking an eyebrow at him. Stiles scowls.

“Just let him help you, Stiles,” Scott chimes in, grinning. Stiles finds himself immensely tempted to stick his tongue out at Scott, but somehow manages to refrain.

“Fine,” Stiles huffs, and grabs his bowling ball again before turning to Derek to give him his best ‘help me?’ look.

“Alright, let’s look at your stance,” Derek says, sidling up behind Stiles, and oh, okay, apparently Derek’s decided they need to be _close_ for this.

“My stance is fine,” Stiles grumbles, gripping the bowling ball a little tighter.

“You’re too tense,” Derek counters, and Stiles has to bite his lip to avoid saying something about how he’d be a lot less tense if Derek would just give him some space. “Relax a bit.”

Stiles lets out a small squeak as he suddenly feels Derek’s hands on him, running down his arms.

“Loosen your elbows,” Derek instructs, and Stiles glances back at Scott desperately. Unfortunately, Scott just looks amused. “And bend your knees some.”

Reluctantly, Stiles does as told, bending his knees a little. Apparently not enough for Derek’s tastes, though, because a moment later he feels a hand on the back of his thigh, urging him to bend his legs a little more.

“There we go,” Derek says, and Stiles is certain his face is bright, bright red now. “Now aim, and don’t forget to follow through with your swing.”

Stiles nods quickly, all too eager to get away from the temptation of Derek’s firm body. He steps forward, trying to stay relatively relaxed as he swings the ball forward and aims. He watches, mouth falling open in surprise, as the ball rolls down the lane and hits the center pin straight on, knocking down all the remaining ones.

“Spare!” Scott exclaims, and Stiles turns around to give him a high-five, grinning. Derek, meanwhile, has a look of smug pride on his face, and Stiles does his best to ignore how happy it makes him feel. 

He’s not terribly successful.

\---

“There you are!” Scott exclaims when Stiles arrives back at their dorm room. “I was just about to call you.”

“About what?” Stiles asks, frowning slightly.

“The gallery opening,” Scott explains. Or, well, kind of explains. “Apparently it’s semi-formal. You should wear your purple button down. It brings out the gold in your eyes.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles repeats, frown deepening. “What gallery opening?”

“Derek’s,” Scott answers, shoving the purple button down and a pair of black jeans into Stiles’ hands. Stiles opens his mouth, but doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. Sure, he knows that Derek’s in the school of art and design, and he does know that Derek has a few pieces in one of the new gallery shows, but he’d been planning on sneaking over by himself at some point to admire them.

“Uh, are you sure I should be going?” Stiles asks, worrying his lower lip with his teeth as he clutches the purple shirt in his hands. “I mean, don’t you and Derek want some alone time, maybe?”

“Dude, just come with,” Scott sighs. “He’d want you there, alright?”

“I just don’t want to spend the whole night third-wheeling!” Stiles protests, but he’s already starting to shuck his t-shirt.

“You won’t,” Scott assures him. “You’re not a third-wheel, Stiles. You could never be a third wheel.”

“Are you saying I’m too high maintenance?” Stiles huffs, but a small smile pulls a his lips.

“No,” Scott replies simply. “But seriously, c’mon, we’re going to be late.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Stiles mutters, doing up the last of his shirt buttons and then quickly pulling on his jeans. For a moment, he thinks he feels Scott’s eyes on him, but when he glances up, Scott quickly looks away.

Eh, Scott was probably just morbidly fascinated by how pale and skinny his chest is, or something.

In the end, they’re technically only five minutes late. Not that it matters much, because it’s, you know, a _gallery showing_ , not a lecture or something. People are wandering in and out at their leisure – many far less well dressed than Scott or Stiles.

They wander around the gallery for a few minutes, admiring the art while keeping an eye out for Derek and his pieces. Stiles spots a few photographs by someone with the first name ‘Kira’ and idly wonders if it’s the same Kira who stole his date the previous year.

“Derek!” Scott calls, tearing Stiles’ attention away from the photographs and towards where Scott is heading. Sure enough, Derek’s standing there, looking sinfully attractive in black slacks and a light blue dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing a tantalizing strip of skin.

“Scott,” Derek says, smiling, and continues in the same breath, “Stiles. Glad you could make it.”

“Dude, of course we came,” Scott replies, dimpling at Derek in a truly adorable way.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Stiles mumbles, sticking his hands awkwardly in his pockets in an attempt to keep himself from fidgeting.

“Woah, is that yours?” Scott asks, drawing Stiles’ attention to the ceramic sculpture behind Derek, who nods a little awkwardly and moves aside so they can see it better.

It’s huge, is Stiles’ first impression. It looks like an abstracted wolf, sprawled out on the ground, a tangled, twisted mess. The lines are gorgeous, though, fluid, meticulously textured swirls. However, there’s a certain agony and sharpness to the lines, and it takes Stiles a moment to pick out the steel-jawed trap clamped down on one of the animal’s hind legs.

“My parents are conservationists,” Derek says suddenly, as if trying to explain. “I saw a coyote get caught in one of those, once, and it’s always stuck with me.” He shrugs.

“It’s amazing,” Stiles blurts out, the words leaving his mouth before he can fully think them through. “I mean, uh, it’s just – it’s beautiful, but, like, in a grotesque sort of way? Ugh, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“No, I get what you mean,” Scott says, bumping his shoulder against Stiles’. “It’s a really powerful piece of work. There’s a lot of emotion in it.”

“Thanks,” Derek mutters, ducking his head a little, embarrassed by pleased.

They chat for a while longer, but then Derek gets waylaid by a professor who has the sort of glint in her eye that suggests she’s eager to show him off to a potential donor. He leaves with an apologetic smile, but Scott promises that they’ll wait for him. Without consulting Stiles, of course – not that he actually intends to leave or anything.

While waiting for Derek, he ends up running into Malia, and it turns out that the photographer Kira _is_ , in fact, the same Kira who crashed their date. Kira turns bright red when she sees him and starts blurting out apologies, but Stiles waves them off. Once she’s calmed down, though, she tells him that he and Scott make a cute couple. Stiles spends a few moments doing some failing of his own, but for some reason Scott just chuckles and doesn’t bother to correct her.

“You two ready to head out?” Stiles hears someone ask, cutting him off from correcting Kira. He jumps as he feels a hand come down on his shoulder, and he looks back to find Derek standing behind him and Scott.

“Are you allowed to leave yet?” Scott asks, frowning.

“If Professor Martin tries to get me to charm another donor, I’m going to end up breaking something,” Derek mutters, his expression going endearingly pouty.

“Alright, sounds like it’s time to go, then,” Stiles laughs, trying to subtly shrug off Derek’s hand. “It was nice seeing you again, Malia, Kira.”

“Yeah, nice meeting you two,” Scott echoes, shooting them a bright smile.

As they turn to leave, though, Stiles sees Kira’s mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ like she’s come to some sort of epiphany, her eyes darting between Derek’s hand on his shoulder, and Derek’s other hand on Scott’s shoulder. Malia, meanwhile, gives him a knowing smirk, and Stiles feels his face heat.

In fact, he’s pretty sure his cheeks are still pink when the three of them arrive back at his and Scott’s dorm room. It felt like he kept accidentally brushing up against Scott and Derek the entire way, no matter how much distance he tried to keep between the three of them.

“Thanks again for coming,” Derek says softly when they stop out in front of the dorm room. Idly, Stiles hopes he’s not about to get sexiled.

“Yeah, of course,” Scott replies, smiling fondly. “It was great.”

Stiles watches on awkwardly as Derek ducks forward to brush a chaste kiss against Scott’s lips. It lasts barely a second, and there’s no tongue to speak of, but Stiles still feels like he’s intruding somehow.

However, he’s caught off guard when Derek turns and brushes a soft kiss against his own cheek.

For a moment, he thinks he imagined it. Maybe Derek was just trying to give him a hug and… missed? Or something? But no, that was definitely a kiss. A cheek kiss, but a kiss none the less.

What.

“ _What?_ ” Stiles exclaims, staring at Derek with wide eyes. “What the fuck was that!”

“I – ” Derek starts, looking confused.

“Your boyfriend is _literally standing right there!_ ” Stiles shouts, waving an arm at Scott, who looks… somehow not outraged? “I mean, you shouldn’t have done that even if Scott _wasn’t_ there, but – ”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, looking a little panicked. “I know that we’re taking things slowly, but I thought that since it’s been a few weeks now – ”

“No!” Stiles interrupts. “I don’t know what’s going on here! I mean, have the two of you even been on a _date_ since the first one? You don’t just _ask Scott out_ and then go around kissing other – ”

“I asked both of you out,” Derek says, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Stiles is about to retort, but as soon as his brain processes what Derek just said, it stops functioning.

Wait, what?

“Stiles,” Scott says, and oh no, here comes the Puppy Dog Eyes ™ again. “We know you’ve been kind of skittish about the whole polyamory thing, so we’ve been trying to ease you into it slowly. We were kind of disappointed when you turned down the first date, but the rest have been nice –”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Stiles interrupts, staring at Scott and Derek incredulously. “ _Both_ of you want to date me?”

“And each other,” Derek adds.

“Okay, but you mean to tell me,” Stiles says slowly, “that the two of you could have devirginized me _weeks_ ago? _But you haven’t because you thought I wanted to take things slow?_ ”

“Uh,” Scott replies, his cheeks going a little pink. “Yeah?”

“Oh my god!” Stiles exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “If you two don’t have your pants off in less than five minutes I’m dumping both of you!”

“In the hallway?” Derek snorts, earning him a mild glare from Stiles, who nonetheless fumbles around in his pocket for his room key and yanks open the door as quickly as he can.

The three of them stumble into the room, and Stiles honestly finds it both impressive and devastatingly attractive how quickly both Scott and Derek manage to lose their pants.

“Look like I’m not dumping you two,” Stiles groans as Scott crowds him up against one of the beds – which of theirs, Stiles isn’t exactly paying attention to at the moment.

“Can I kiss you?” Scott asks, and Stiles would find it endearing if it didn’t _prevent Scott from actually kissing him_. In reply, Stiles smashes their mouths together. His teeth catch on Scott’s bottom lip accidentally, and their noses bump against each other, and Stiles pulls away awkwardly, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

“Sorry, sorry,” he stutters, heart skipping a beat as he feels Derek press up behind him, a warm, solid presence against his back. “I, uh, haven’t kissed anyone since, like, eighth grade. Oh god.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Derek says behind him, his breath tickling the back of Stiles’ neck and making him shiver.

“It’s true,” Stiles mutters, glancing down at the ground.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Scott says softly, bringing a hand up to cup Stiles’ cheek and make him look up again. “We can take this at whatever pace you want to take it at.”

“Thanks, but I just – I mean, you two must already know each other wants, and I’m just getting in the way, and – ” Stiles rambles, trying not to lose himself in the heat of Scott’s palm against his skin.

“We don’t,” Derek interrupts, catching Stiles off guard. “We wanted to save this for the three of us, together.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathes.

“Let’s try this again,” Scott says, and leans in to press his lips against Stiles’.

It’s slower this time, sweeter. Stiles lets Scott take control and doesn’t try to complicate things again, just does what Scott guides him to do. He moans a little as he feels Derek’s mouth press against his neck, pressing soft kisses against his skin. Scott then slides a hand up under Stiles’ shirt, and abruptly, Stiles realizes he’s the only one still wearing pants.

“We should be naked,” he pants, breaking the kiss.

“Do you want that?” Derek asks, tone free of judgement. “We don’t have to do everything right away.”

“I want to,” Stiles breathes. “I really, really want to.”

Scott grins and helps him with his shirt. Scott then strips off his own shirt, and Stiles is pretty sure he almost drools at the sight. It’s not like he’s never seen Scott naked before, but he’s never had permission to really _look_ before, and fuck does he like what he sees. Quickly, he fumbles to undo his own jeans, clumsily pulling them open and shoving them down his legs, hopping around to kick them off. 

And when he looks up again, both Scott and Derek are fully naked, sitting on the edge of the bed and kissing. Stiles is surprised he doesn’t die from a sexiness overdose right then.

“Oh my god, are you two _trying_ to kill me?” Stiles says, gaping at them.

“Necrophilia’s not really my thing,” Derek drawls when he and Scott pull apart, a lazy smirk on his face.

“You know what I mean,” Stiles mutters.

“Hey, come over here,” Scott says, making grabby-hands at Stiles who complies, lets Scott drag him down onto the bed. He ends up half in Scott’s lap, between Scott and Derek, and his heartbeat races as Derek scoots closer to them and runs a hand up his thigh.

“So, uh, how are we going to do this?” Stiles asks, suddenly nervous. Awkward kissing is one thing, but this is _sex_. He’s never even come close to this before with one person, much less _two_. And _at the same time_ , no less.

“Let’s start simple,” Derek answers, and leans in to kiss him. It’s the first time they’ve really kissed, Stiles realizes, on the lips, at least. He groans into Derek’s mouth, opening his own and letting Derek’s tongue delve inside. He startles a little, though, as he feels Scott bring a hand up to tweak one of his nipples.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, breaking the kiss, as Scott does it again.

“Feel good?” Scott asks, but the smirk on his face says he already knows the answer.

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles mutters, but he twists his neck around to kiss Scott again. However, he’s startled out of the kiss again when he feels a hand close around his cock. He groans and looks over to find Derek pressing closer, stroking him lightly.

“This okay?” Derek asks, but all Stiles can manage is a nod, burying his face in the side of Scott’s neck. He’s no stranger to a hand on his cock, but somehow it feels so different, now that it’s not his own. Derek’s hands are more calloused, but his grip is light, teasing, and Stiles finds himself squirming, trying to thrust up into Derek’s fist.

“You two are so hot,” Scott groans, and whoa, that is definitely a hard on pressing up against Stiles’ back, holy shit. Stiles just pants against Scott’s neck, unable to form any coherent thought as Derek speeds up his hand and tightens his grip.

He jumps a little bit, though, as he feels Scott snake a hand down to press his fingers up against Stiles’ hole.

“ _Scottie_ ,” he moans as Scott continues to play with him a little, not pushing in but just playing with his rim a little. Stiles is no stranger to touching himself there, though, and feeling Scott against him is a delicious sort of tease.

“Fuck,” Derek mutters, and Stiles looks over to find Derek staring at the two of them with dark eyes, pupils blown wide. “You two are going to kill me.”

“I think if anyone’s going to die here, it’s going to be me,” Stiles replies, breath hitching as Derek strokes him a little faster, grip absolutely perfect. Between that and Scott still teasing his hole, he can already feel his orgasm building, and as embarrassing as it is, he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to last much longer.

Derek grins at him and ducks down to mouth at the head of Stiles’ cock, and before he can even manage to blurt out a warning, he’s coming with a strangled cry.

“Oh my god,” he gasps as he comes down from his high, thighs trembling a little. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Derek – ”

“Don’t be,” Derek says, licking a bit of come off his lips, and wow, yep, Stiles is dead, very and truly dead.

“Wanna watch me suck off Derek now?” Scott murmurs in his ear, and Stiles wonders how he’s possibly going to be able to survive a _relationship_ with them if he can barely survive a single night. What a way to go, though.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” he breathes, scrambling up off Scott’s lap so that Scott and Derek can position themselves.

“Watch and learn,” Scott says once he’s got Derek sprawled out on his back, cock jutting up from his stomach, red and thick. Stiles watches with wide eyes Scott takes Derek into his mouth, sucking at the head and then taking in more and more, until he’s swallowed all the way to the base of Derek’s cock. It’s nothing short of obscene.

Scott bobs a bit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, bringing a free hand up to play with Derek’s balls. Stiles thinks he’s probably doing something pretty amazing with his tongue, too, if Derek’s moans are anything to go by, and Stiles feels his cock twitch in a valiant effort to get hard again.

“Fuck, Scott,” Derek gasps as Scott pulls off and then licks a long stripe up the side of Derek’s cock before swallowing him back down again, mouth working in a way which has Stiles utterly mesmerized. “Scott, I – ”

However, instead of continuing to suck, Scott pulls off then, bringing a hand up to jack Derek and leaning back down to lick at Derek’s hole instead. Stiles’ own hole clenches in sympathy as Derek groans, and he feels a wave of heat come over him, warmth pooling low in his belly. It only takes a few more strokes and licks before Derek’s shooting across his stomach, though, creamy white staining his dark chest hair. 

Before he realizes quite what he’s doing, Stiles finds himself reaching out to dab his fingers in some, before bringing it to his mouth and licking. It doesn’t taste any different than his own come, really, maybe a little less salty, and he laps the rest off his fingers without even really thinking about it. But when he looks back over at Scott and Derek, they’re both staring openly at him.

“What?” he asks, frowning at them.

“Nothing,” Scott laughs, but there’s a certain heat to his eyes. “Come on over here.”

Stiles complies, a little embarrassed as he realizes that Scott hasn’t come yet.

“Do you want me to…?” Stiles asks, gesturing vaguely to his mouth. It’s something he’s always wanted to try, but in the wake of Scott’s performance, he feels a little insecure with his own lack of experience.

“Just your hand,” Scott answers, leaning in to kiss Stiles again. When Stiles kisses back, he almost thinks he’s gotten a bit better than he was at the start of this. Hopefully he has, at least.

Still slightly nervous, Stiles breaks the kiss and moves to wrap his hand around Scott’s neglected cock. Really, he shouldn’t be _that_ nervous. It’s like jacking off, right? And he’s a pro at that.

The grip is a little weird from this angle, he realizes, but he presses his lips into a determined line and continues to stroke. Scott’s breath hitches a little as he tightens his grip, and that’s good, right? He tires speeding up the pace a little, and Scott rocks his hips in time with his hand.

Stiles is so focused on trying to make this good for Scott, he almost misses it when Derek moves to press up behind Scott, pressing kisses to his neck. Scott groans then, leans back into Derek’s chest.

“Rub your thumb over his slit,” Derek suggests and Stiles does as instructed, pleased when Scott thrusts up sharply, a bitten off curse leaving his mouth. “Go a little faster.”

“God, Stiles,” Scott moans as Stiles increases the pace, jacking Scott faster and moving his free hand to grip Scott’s hip.

“It’s Derek and Stiles,” Stiles corrects, grinning.

“You know what I meant,” Scott grumbles and Derek laughs before ducking down to kiss him. Between Derek’s kissing and Stiles’ hand, it doesn’t take much longer for Scott to come, spilling over onto Stiles’ fingers.

For the sake of trying every option – and because Derek and Scott seemed to like it last time – Stiles licks his fingers clean, pleased when it makes Scott and then Derek kiss him immediately after.

Scott ends up cleaning them up with his discarded shirt, but Stiles is honestly too fucked out to care. That and he doesn’t really feel like doing the walk of shame down the hallway to the communal bathroom at the moment.

“We should get breakfast together tomorrow,” Stiles blurts out once they’ve pushed the two twin beds in the room together, making just barely enough space for the three of them to sprawl out on. “Or is breakfast too early? Maybe brunch.”

“Food,” Scott agrees, face pressed against Stiles’ collarbone and an arm slung across his stomach.

“It’s a date,” Derek agrees, his words slightly muffled by a yawn.

Stiles grins.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what Derek's sculpture looked like, I was thinking of something similar to what Beth Cavener makes. Google her if you want! She has some really amazing pieces, but be warned, some are kind of graphic/grotesque.


End file.
